Living In Shadows

The Dream

With a great sigh, I slip on my sneakers and leave the cool of our house. I still have a week before school starts, meaning the ongoing heat of Chicago summers is still present. 'Why oh why, couldn't mom take the nice, cool car and get the groceries herself?' I think sulkily as I trudge along the sidewalk.
   Approaching the store, I take out my quickly scribbled list once more:
Eggs
Apples
Milk
Chicken Breasts
Yog- "OOF"
Says a voice in front of me, as my head slams into someone's chin. "Oh jeez I'm so sorry." I quickly mumble out, silently yelling at myself for not paying more attention.
  "Oh don't worry about it." A deep voice bellows, belonging to quite a burly man, about 6 inches taller then me.
    About to apologize again, I open my mouth to speak, but quickly close it.       
     The mans shadow has caught my eye. It looks like the shape of a human, yet it seems to have... Wings fanning from its back?
   I quickly look around to see if anything could be causing the strange formation, but the only tree was on the other side of the road, and the store I'm next to has no strange shape to it.
   "Are you alright young lady?" I hear the tall man ask me.
   "I... Uh yeah fine." I manage to stammer. "Sorry again. I better go."
    I swiftly move past the man to get to the store. But, as I push open the door to 'S-Mart Shopping' I hear a loud screech of car wheels.
   Whirling around, I see the man I had just bumped into lying 20 feet away from a car that was now smoking!
   I run up to the badly bleeding, and now misshapen man, to feel for a pulse. Nothing.

    Gasping, I wake up from my strange dream covered in sweat. "Of all the dreams I've had so far," I say quietly to myself "that was the strangest."
   For some reason, I feel the strong need to not forget it, so I decide to write it down. Crawling out of bed, I quickly grab a random piece of paper and grope around for a pen.
   I search my room, until at last, I close my hand around one deep in my closet. Honestly, I don't really know why this dream sticks out so much to me, but I feel like I just have to remember it.
   About 3/4 of my way through writing it down, I hear my moms voice calling me. "Angie! Time for breakfast! You don't want to be late on your first day back at school!"
    My mind temporarily drifts back to reality as I recall the fact that my first day of grade 11 is today. In my dream I had a week before school. My dream.       
   My mind is pulled back in as I continue writing. I'm so close to finishing when "Angie! Common dear I made you breakfast!" Yet again I ignore my yelling mom, and continue to scribble down what I just dreamt.
Finally, last sentence.
   "ANGELICA MORTEM ROBINSON YOUR MOM-MADE PANCAKES ARE GETTING COLD!" My 39-year-old mom, who hardly ever gets mad, hollers. If there's one thing she hates, it's being ignored.
   I put down the last few words, throw down my pen and yell downstairs to mom "Alright! Alright! Just give me a sec to get dressed!"

    Starting to worry about what to wear, I go to rummage through my closet for something decent, only to realize I had laid out an outfit the previous night: my favourite Jean shorts that went down to just above my knee, and a loose fitting, baby-blue tank top.
   I guess I'm not as forgetful as I thought. I silently thank myself for remembering to put out clothes, then hurriedly proceed to slip on the outfit. I check my appearance in the full length mirror on my wall, and, as usual don't  really like anything I see.
   I mean, I kind of always liked my hair, it seems to be the only thing going for me. It's a light shade of blond, that falls halfway down my back.            
     Straight of course, not wavy like my mothers slightly darker hair.
But, other then my hair, I didn't really like the rest of me. I have always thought looked strange, because of the fact my eyes are chocolate-brown, and my hair naturally blond, it just doesn't seem to match.
  Moving my eyes down, I can't help but think that I'm slightly too skinny. You can see my angular cheekbones clearly, along with my jaw, and my entire body seems fragile. At least my height was average.
  But today, I don't have time to dwell on how I look, for it's back to school time.
I rush downstairs where, as promised, my favourite breakfast (pancakes) is set out on the table.
   I give my mom a smile as a 'thanks' and begin to dig in. About half way through my meal, my slightly stocky, adopted, 10-year-old brother walks in.
He pushes his ear length hair out of his face while stifling a yawn. "Morning Carl." My mom says. He fixed his brown eyes on the pancakes on the table hungrily.
"Excited for grade 5?" My mom says while placing a plate in front of him.
"Eh." Is all he replies with, reaching for a pancake.
I can't help thinking, while looking at my 2 family members, that even though Carl's adopted, he looks quite a bit like my mum. Same dirty blond hair, slightly stocky figure, dark brown eyes, although moms eyes were a shade lighter then his.
"Ready for grade 11?" My mums voice says, snapping me out of my reverie.
"Hm? Oh... Uh yeah I guess so." I say. "I mean, school is school. The only good part is that Tara is in the majority of my classes."
I finish up the rest of my breakfast and head upstairs to freshen up. I put on a slight bit of makeup, brush my teeth and hair, then get my books together.
My little chunk of social anxiety starts to settle in as I near the door. "See ya mom." I yell towards the kitchen. "Have a good day sweetie!" She shouts back.
I walk down 3 houses to get to my best friends house, then knock on the door for Tara. I'm not surprised when her tall, muscular dad, Sam Pensheer answers the door. "Good morning Mr. Pensheer." I say with forced enthusiasm. "How many times do I have to tell you, call me Sam!" Tara's dad says with a chuckle as he opens the door for me.
   As usual, my red-head friend is running a little late. "Hey Angie!" She said in her perky voice, between mouthfuls of leftover pizza.
    "I just gotta brush my teeth and stuff, I'll be right down!" Tara says as she rushes off.
   While waiting, her older, 20-year-old brother comes downstairs. God is he ever Emo. Brown hair, the same colour as his fathers, but falling into his eyes constantly. Always wearing only black too. Pretty much the opposite of perky, happy, Tara. He gives a slight nod in my  direction before heading to the kitchen.
   Finally my best friend comes down from her bathroom, her wavy, orange-red hair pulled into a ponytail, dressed in a green t-shirt that matches her eyes and brings out her many freckles.
   "Ready?" I ask her, as I open the door.

20 minutes later, we reach Robert Trébor high. Groups of friends are  everywhere, the girls giggling and hugging, the guys play punching each other.
   As we make our way across the school yard to the doors, I see something that almost makes me faint. One of the girls in the giggling groups, had a strange shadow. A shadow that looked like it had... Angel wings.